Golden Flower
by ElrohirStarHorseLord
Summary: It's about the Elf lord Glorfindel, starting from the Fall of Gondolin and going through his return to Middle Earth. Silmarillion based -Ch.2 redone, Ch.5 up- Glorfindel and Gildor make it to ME.
1. Default Chapter

A/N: There's not enough about Glorfindel, so I decided to write this fic about him. It's only going to have three chapters, but I'm probably going to write a sequel that may contain slash. "Golden Flower" can stand by itself, though, so you don't have to read the sequel if you don't like slash. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
Glorfindel, chief of the House of the Golden Flower, ran as hard as he could. Gondolin, the magnificent Elven stronghold, was in flames. Turgon, his lord and High King of the Noldorin Elves, was dead and orcs swarmed everywhere, while dragons flew in the sky breathing fire down onto everything.  
  
'A thousand curses be upon the head of that traitor, Maeglin,' Glorfindel thought in savage anger. 'That Dark Elf will pay for betraying Gondolin to our enemies, I swear it.'  
  
He paused as he saw some beleaguered Elves of his house surrounded by orcs. The Elves were backed up against a crumbled stone edifice, their faces smeared with black ash and sweat. Despair was mirrored in their eyes, but they fought valiantly, striving to protect what remnant of their people that they could. Giving voice to a fierce battle cry, Glorfindel charged the orcs, his sword slicing skillfully through the air as it plunged into their bodies. The orcs were driven back by the fury of his assault and the previously surrounded Elves finished off the rest of the foul creatures.  
  
"Follow me, my people!" Glorfindel shouted to them. The Elves rallied to his sword, and their small force cut a swath through the ranks of the enemy as they searched desperately for some escape.  
  
'I must find the Lady Idril,' Glorfindel thought urgently, searching everywhere with his eyes.  
  
Idril Celebrindal was the daughter of Turgon, and Glorfindel had sworn to his friend and lord that he would protect her. Glorfindel suddenly caught sight of Idril holding her child, Earendil, and standing next to her husband, Tuor. The shrieks and smoke of battle whirled about her, yet she seemed an island of calm in the midst of the storm, standing tall, with her child cradled protectively in her arms. He ran to her side and she spoke to him urgently, "Glorfindel, there is a secret entrance that leads out of Gondolin. Very few know of it, for I kept its making a secret, in case of an occurrence like this one. We must gather as many Elves as we can and reach it quickly."  
  
Glorfindel nodded wearily and pushed his golden hair away from his dirt- streaked face. They had to hurry before the enemy found the entrance. The Elves made their way toward the hidden entrance, gathering others to them as they went. By the time they reached their destination, though, their force was still only a small portion of all those within Gondolin. Tears gathered in the corners of Glorfindel's eyes as he paused to take one last look at his beloved home. The glittering fountains and mighty walls of the city were crumbling and burning before his eyes as he gazed out over the green valley. At this time of year the elanor blossoms were starting to appear and the mighty trees stretched their leafy branches over the grassy ground. Glorfindel noticed one tiny sprig of elanor growing near his feet. It seemed so pure and innocent in the midst of all this carnage. He reached down to pluck the delicate flower and take it with him as one of the last reminders of fair Gondolin. But as he drew nearer, a small piece of flaming debris flew through the air and landed on top of the flower, crushing and burning it almost immediately. Glorfindel's hand stopped in midair and slowly clenched into a bloodless fist. Anger hotter than the flames of Orodruin coursed through his veins. If Morgoth himself had appeared, Glorfindel would have gladly challenged him in his hate and despair.  
  
'Will everything that was once fair and pure come to such fate as this flower?' he lamented to himself  
  
Knowing the need for haste, Glorfindel gave a last glance at the ashy remains of the flower that were even now being blown away by the hot breeze that wafted through the valley, before hurrying into the exit. Mourning would have to wait until they were safe, if any place could be considered safe in these days of pain. The sorrowful Elves made their way out of Gondolin and, struggling through the mountains, came to the pass of Cirith Thoronath, a narrow way surrounded by high cliffs. It was there that they were waylaid by a Balrog, the most powerful of the minions of the enemy. Many of the Elves quailed at this most hated and feared of enemies, one of those that had killed the mighty Feanor. Glorfindel, though, found himself suffused with rage. He would not let this evil thing harm any more of those he cared about.  
  
"Demon!" he shouted. "Servant of Morgoth! You shall not pass me!"  
  
The Balrog stood before Glorfindel, wreathed in dark fire that pulsed and glowed. It carried a long whip of fire that it swished threateningly at the Elf-lord. Glorfindel stared unflinchingly at the demon, and he began to whisper Elvish words of power that caused a white light to emanate from him. Drawing his sword, Glorfindel focused his entire being on the fight ahead. The Balrog made the first move, cracking its whip at the Elf-lord. Glorfindel nimbly avoided it, so sharply were his sense honed. Seeing an opening, he struck with his sword, eliciting a howl of pain from the demon as he pierced its fiery hide. The Balrog once more flailed its whip, and once more Glorfindel danced out of the way. Making six more strikes with his sword, Glorfindel felt himself begin to weary with the strain of calling on so much of his power. He stumbled once and before he could catch himself, the fiery whip seared across his chest. He gasped at the burning agony, but quickly recovered his reeling senses and avoided the next strike. The Balrog roared in triumph, seeing his opponent falter. After two more strikes of the whip, Glorfindel knew he would not be able to endure much longer. He drew on all of his power and with a yell, thrust his sword into the Balrog, piercing it to the core. Mortally wounded, the Balrog staggered toward the edge of the precipice on which the two combatants fought. Glorfindel lunged with his sword to finish the demon, but the Balrog also struck at the Elf with his whip. The two hit each other, but the Balrog unbalanced and he fell with a roar of rage as the edge of the precipice crumbled under him. The Balrog's whip was still wrapped around Glorfindel, however and the Elf felt himself being dragged over the edge into the abyss. Glorfindel looked up to see the faces of the Elves of Gondolin twisted in grief, silent tears falling from their cheeks as they watched the mighty Elf-lord fall to his doom, unable to come to his aid. Glorfindel closed his eyes in pain and his last conscious sensation was one of falling, falling, falling. . .  
  
1  
  
2 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: On advice from Galahan, I redid the second chapter, and I hope it's a little better than my first version.  
  
The first thing that Glorfindel noticed about the Halls of Mandos was the absolute lack of color. No colors of any kind seemed to be present, nothing defining, no visible boundaries. The Halls simply were. The next thing Glorfindel noticed was the all-encompassing presence of Mandos himself. He felt suddenly powerless and afraid, naked without the protective shell of his body, his f?a laid bare. The Elf lord tried futilely to move away, but a gentle tug by Mandos stopped him.  
  
"Why do you flee?" his voice questioned, powerful yet soothing.  
  
"I am fearful," Glorfindel replied, knowing it was useless to lie, for the f?a in its naked form cannot tell a falsehood.  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"Of your judgement."  
  
"And what wrongdoings do you think I will judge you for?" Mandos asked gently.  
  
"I allied myself with those who slew their own kin, and although I did not directly harm another Elf, I associated with and gave aid to those who did," Glorfindel said without hesitation. "I forswore the House of Finarfin to ally myself with one of the House of Fingolfin and in doing so did not remain loyal to my Vanyar kin. And last of all, I followed F?anor the Dispossessed in his rebellion against the Valar and forsook the lands of my birth forever."  
  
"And what punishment do you expect for this?"  
  
"I expect a long tenure in these Halls," Glorfindel said ruefully.  
  
"You tenure is only as long as you make it," Mandos said cryptically. "I will return to speak with you again later. In the meantime, you may wish to speak with those you knew in life."  
  
"I prefer to remain alone for now," Glorfindel said, subdued.  
  
  
  
True to his word, Mandos returned later to speak again with Glorfindel.  
  
"So you believe that you were dishonorable in allying yourself to the House of Fingolfin?"  
  
"Yes," Glorfindel said miserably. "I had pledged myself to the House of Finarfin, and I should have stayed loyal."  
  
"Then why did you join Turgon?"  
  
"Because he was one of my dearest friends!" Glorfindel cried out. "I couldn't abandon him!"  
  
"So the ties of friendship were stronger than the ties of loyalty," Mandos stated.  
  
"Yes," Glorfindel said, sighing.  
  
"And why do you think that the ties of loyalty necessarily preclude the ties of friendship? Just because you gave a solemn pledge in one and not the other?"  
  
"Well, yes," Glorfindel said uncertainly.  
  
"No." Mandos shook his head. "Friendship includes loyalty and you kept your loyalty to Turgon, selflessly following him to Middle Earth. Do you think that deserves punishment?"  
  
"But I was disloyal to the House of Finarfin," Glorfindel protested.  
  
"And if you had been loyal to the House of Finarfin, you would have been disloyal to Turgon," Mandos countered. "Either decision you made would have meant you were unfaithful to someone, and you made the choice your heart told you. There is no fault in that."  
  
"I suppose not," Glorfindel said thoughtfully.  
  
"That is good," Mandos nodded his head approvingly. "You are coming to understand and accept, and that is the first step to healing."  
  
  
  
Mandos came to Glorfindel many other times and they talked of many things: the rebellion, the Kinslayings, and any other doubts that came to Glorfindel's mind. Slowly Glorfindel came to accept it all, facing his mistakes and shortcomings and coming to terms with them. He took it all inside and made it a part of himself so that he felt whole once more, healed of his pain. He even sought out those he had known in life, speaking to Turgon, Ecthelion, and others.  
  
Turgon he usually found in a dark mood, struggling with his past, his role in the Kinslaying. Most of the time Glorfindel would just sit and listen to Turgon as the erstwhile Lord of Gondolin recalled the horrors, offering advice and comfort when he could. As he had been healed, so Glorfindel helped his friend to heal, though for Turgon it took much longer.  
  
But before the Lord of Gondolin was completely free of his pain, Glorfindel was called before Mandos.  
  
"Your healing is done, Glorfindel of the Golden Flower," Mandos intoned. "If you wish it, you are ready to be re-embodied and take your place among your people again. Your progress has been remarkable. I do not believe anyone other than Finrod has ever left these Halls so rapidly."  
  
"Thank you, Lord Mandos," Glorfindel said respectfully. "I am ready to go back, for there is an oath I took long ago that I must fulfill."  
  
"So be it."  
  
  
  
  
  
Glorfindel felt something tickling his cheek, and he batted it irritably away before intending to go back to sleep. But then he realized what had just happened. He had touched his cheek. With his hand. Sitting up suddenly, he looked wonderingly down at his hand and then down at his body, skin perfect and unmarred by the fire of the Balrog. He brought his hand up to his head, and ran it through his hair, reveling in the sensation. Even though he had known he was to be re-embodied, it was still something of a shock to suddenly find himself in his old body. Looking around, he realized he was lying in the gardens of Lorien, the mallyrn trees swaying softly overhead, their fallen leaves forming a golden carpet on the ground. Standing up slowly, he stretched, feeling the flex and pull of muscles. Realizing he was naked, he found a pile of clothes nearby, most likely left by the maiden attendants of Lorien. Glorfindel pulled them on and then began to walk through the forest, getting used to his body. He wandered aimlessly for a bit, contemplating, but then he decided to head for Tirion, where Mandos had told him he should seek out Finrod. Glorfindel's memories were still sketchy. Sometimes flashes of certain events would surface in his mind, but when he tried to firmly anchor them, they would slip out of his grasp like wisps of cloud. Finrod was to be the one who would help him adjust to life again and regain all his old memories.  
  
Glorfindel stopped for a moment and leaned against the trunk of one of the trees to simply enjoy the sensations around him: the soft whisper of leaves in the wind, the smell of flowers, the gentle caress of a breeze against his cheek. He felt like a child when it first opens its eyes to the world, delighted with everything, experiencing everything as if for the first time.  
  
Giving a reluctant sigh, the Vanya caressed the smooth bark of the tree one last time, deciding to move on. Stepping out from behind the tree he had been leaning against, Glorfindel was almost bowled over by a young golden- haired Elf who had come careening through the forest. The Elf lord blinked down at the young Elf, sprawled on the ground, while the young Elf gaped at Glorfindel.  
  
"Who are you?" Glorfindel asked him curiously.  
  
The young Elf was obviously Vanyar, and he looked strangely familiar to Glorfindel.  
  
"I am Gildor," the Elf replied, "son of Inglor Finrod Felagund."  
  
***************************************************************************  
  
Gildor ran fleet as a deer through the trees, his feet barely touching the ground, braided hair flying out behind him. Looking behind him, he realized his friend had stopped chasing him and was standing some distance away, waving for Gildor to come back.  
  
"I don't think we should go into Lorien without permission!" he yelled.  
  
"Nonsense!" Gildor called back. "I'll be right back. I'm not going to go deep into the forest."  
  
With that, he took off again, exhilarated by the crisp, cool air and the exercise. Suddenly, another golden-haired Elf stepped out from behind a tree and before Gildor could react, he had crashed into the other Elf's chest and fallen to the ground with a grunt. Looking up at the handsome Elf, Gildor felt his cheeks tinge with embarrassment. He didn't think there would be other Elves at the edge of the forest here.  
  
"Who are you?" the golden Elf asked.  
  
"I am Gildor, son of Inglor Finrod Felagund," the Elf replied, frowning slightly.  
  
It was strange that this Elf did not know who he was. Almost everyone knew Gildor simply because of who his father was.  
  
"Ah, Finrod finally got married did he?" the Elf said, smiling. "I'm assuming Amarie is your mother?"  
  
"Of course," Gildor replied.  
  
"Where have you been, stranger?" he added jokingly. "The Halls of Mandos?"  
  
"As a matter of fact I have," the Elf said in amusement.  
  
Gildor realized his mouth had fallen open, and he shut it with a snap.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked in amazement.  
  
"Glorfindel of the Golden Flower."  
  
Gildor's eyes widened in awe. Here was the legendary Glorfindel of Gondolin, the Balrog slayer who by his valor had saved the descendents of Turgon, Lord of Gondolin and High King of the Noldor. And he had just crashed into him.  
  
Feeling his entire face turn red, Gildor gave a bow and stammered out, "I apologize for running into you, my lord, and I hope I was not rude to you."  
  
"Do not bow to me," Glorfindel admonished, "and no, you were not rude."  
  
"If you don't mind my asking," Gildor said respectfully. "Where are you going?"  
  
"To see Finrod, actually." Glorfindel smiled at Gildor.  
  
"Really?" Gildor said excitedly.  
  
He already liked the Elf lord and was eager to have Glorfindel coming to his father's house where he might get to spend some time with the older Elf.  
  
"Would you take me there?" Glorfindel asked politely.  
  
"Of course," came the prompt reply.  
  
Forgetting his earlier awe in his eagerness, Gildor grabbed Glorfindel's hand and tugged him along. "Follow me."  
  
  
  
"Atar!" Gildor called, bursting through the door. "I've brought someone you will be most pleased to see!"  
  
"Bring him in the study," came Finrod's voice from down the hall.  
  
Gildor led Glorfindel into Finrod's study, waiting smugly for his father to raise his head and see who it was.  
  
When Finrod did, he gave a cry of delight and hurried around his desk to embrace Glorfindel.  
  
"It's good to see you Glorfindel! I wasn't expecting you for another couple of centuries."  
  
"I apparently progressed more quickly than expected," Glorfindel said with a smile, taking the seat Finrod offered him. "Mandos told me you were to be the one to help me readjust to life and regain all my memories."  
  
"Yes," Finrod said, nodding. "I volunteered when Mandos told me there would be other lords re-embodied soon, although I was the first one."  
  
"I am grateful that you would do this for me, even though I forsook the House of Finarfin."  
  
"I hold no grudges about that," Finrod said, waving it off. "In a way, I too forsook my House, and I cannot be angry with you over something that I did as well."  
  
Glorfindel nodded his thanks and added, "By the way, I see you married your Amari?. I literally ran into your son in Lorien."  
  
"Yes." Finrod laughed. "I am quite proud of my son, although he can be quite spirited and reckless at times. A product of his Noldor blood, though I hope the Noldor wisdom manifests itself soon."  
  
"If he's anything like his father I'm sure it will," Glorfindel promised.  
  
"Thank you," Finrod said graciously. "So tell me, how much do you remember?"  
  
"Bits and pieces." Glorfindel shrugged. "The main events I remember are the rebellion, the journey across the Helcarax?, and the building of Gondolin. My death is still blurred as are the battles. I remember more of the small things, such as singing at feasts and swimming in the sea. I remember the people the most, but the events seem to be eluding my grasp."  
  
"That was the way it was for me too," Finrod replied. "Do not worry. We will talk of it all and you will regain your memories. In the meantime, it is getting on towards evening, and I'm sure you are hungry as you have not eaten in a few centuries. We will get you some food and I will have a room prepared for you. You can stay with us for as long as you wish."  
  
"I thank you for your kindness and hospitality," Glorfindel said gratefully, bowing.  
  
"Come my friend." Finrod smiled, linking his arm through Glorfindel's. "Let us go. Your new life is waiting."  
  
Note: (I made this up) *The fea of Glorfindel was re-embodied in the year 120 of the Second Age. Finrod was also re-embodied some time in the Second Age before Glorfindel, and when he returned from the Halls of Mandos, he married Amarie of the Vanyar and they had a child, Gildor. I've decided to have Gildor be born in the year 65, making him 55 years old when he first met Glorfindel 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I know it's taken me a long time to update. I apologize. I'm not a very quick updater plus the fact that the document manager was down so I couldn't upload. Grr. Plus I was just on vacation for three weeks and did not have access to a computer. Hope you like this. Next chapter should be soon. Warning: There is very slight slash toward the end of this chapter. It doesn't even come close to being graphic and they don't even kiss. I know I said there wouldn't be slash until the sequel, but this just kind of wrote itself in. It shouldn't offend anyone unless your are radically against any m/m interaction. CG/MD- Thanks for the nice review! Don't worry, he'll land on his feet. He's an Elf ;) Galahan- Thanks for the info. I will look into it. Which book out of the HoMe has the description of Mandos?  
  
Year 700, Second Age  
  
A golden-haired Elf stood on a cliff, hands clasped behind his back, the ocean breeze lifting tendrils of his hair, curling them around his throat and face. He noticed none of this, though, his piercing blue eyes fixed on the horizon as if he could see the lands that lay there to the East. Foam capped waves crashed against the base of the cliff in a constant rhythm. The water droplets of the spray hung suspended for a moment in the air, sparkling like the gems of the Noldor, before falling back down to rejoin with the sea.  
  
Another Elf came up noiselessly up behind him and stood for a moment his gaze following the other's to see what so captivated him. Understanding came across his face and he reached out with his mind to the Elf in front of him. A touch of comfort.  
  
"Finrod," the golden-haired Elf greeted, turning around and meeting the gray-blue eyes of the Elf who had come up behind him.  
  
"You leave tomorrow?" Finrod asked, sorrow in his wise eyes.  
  
"Yes," the Elf replied, turning around to face the sea again.  
  
"I will miss you, Glorfindel." Finrod laid a hand on the Elf's shoulder.  
  
"And I you, meldir," Glorfindel replied, smiling at the Elf whose hair was the same golden color as his own, a result of their Vanyar heritage.  
  
"You will tell my sister I am well?"  
  
"I will."  
  
"Thank you. I realize that you and she never got along very well," Finrod said knowingly.  
  
"I hope it wasn't that obvious," Glorfindel groaned, covering his eyes with a hand.  
  
"No, no, it wasn't," Finrod laughed. "I just know my sister too well, and I could tell when she didn't particularly care for someone. I know you just as well now, and I can sense your dislike when anyone talks about her."  
  
"My apologies, meldir," Glorfindel murmured. "I do not mean to infer anything about your sister."  
  
"Don't apologize. I know my sister can sometimes be difficult to get along with."  
  
Silence fell between the two of them as they stared out at the sea. At length, Finrod broke the silence again.  
  
"I don't envy you, Glorfindel. Though some of my kin yet dwell there, I have no wish to return to Middle Earth. I gave my life there before, and I have no desire to do so again."  
  
"You deserve your rest, my friend," Glorfindel smiled slightly. "My work is not yet finished, though. I have foreseen that I have some part yet to play there, and my fate is interwoven with the descendents of Turgon; as it has been since I first took service with the son of Fingolfin. I will return here, but not for centuries."  
  
"Come away from the sea," Finrod urged, grabbing Glorfindel's hand and pulling him back towards the city. "You will see Middle Earth soon enough, but come back for now. Spend your last day in company with your Noldor and Vanyar kin, for you will not see them for some time after this. My wife, Amari?, and my son, Gildor, also wish to see you again before you leave."  
  
"I will come," Glorfindel said, taking a last look at the sea before following Finrod back to his house in Tirion on Tuna.  
  
  
  
A feast was held in the evening with Glorfindel as the guest of honor. Many Noldor and Vanyar attended the feast, to say farewell to the much beloved Elf. So many Elves were in attendance, that the whole affair was conducted outside so there would be enough room. After a sumptuous feast of many different foods, a few Elves took out instruments and began to tune them.  
  
"Now it is time for the dance," Finrod whispered in Glorfindel's ear. "The music is wonderful, but I must grudgingly admit that it will never be as beautiful as it was when Maglor's music rang through the hills and vales of Valinor."  
  
"I wonder what has become of Maglor?" Glorfindel said, leaning back thoughtfully in his chair.  
  
"Maybe you can search him out when you return to Middle Earth," Finrod replied, a mischievous glint in his eye.  
  
Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm afraid it would not be good for his health if we met."  
  
Finrod shook his head and stood up, reaching down to pull Glorfindel out of his chair. "We will not discuss such things now. Come, join the dance!"  
  
A single Elf was standing in the center of the gathering, his skillful fingers playing a quick yet haunting melody on a violin. Behind him, drums beat out a rhythm and a flute played harmony to the violin's melody. The rhythm was one of the forest and conjured up images of tall oaks and the more slender birches and alders. The moon painted the scene with silver light as Elves danced through the trees. Glorfindel could feel his heartbeat synchronize with the drums and the rhythm seemed to course through his veins. Abandoning himself to the flow he joined the other Elves in the passionate dance. As the Elves joined into partners, Glorfindel found himself paired with Gildor, the golden-haired son of Finrod. Clasping one hand, Glorfindel led him in the wild, free dance. As the dance ended, the two turned to each other, breathing hard, their cheeks slightly flushed.  
  
"Thank you for the dance," Glorfindel said, inclining his head slightly, and then looking back up to meet the eyes of Gildor, who was scant centimeters shorter than him.  
  
The intensity of the look Gildor focused on him startled Glorfindel. The Elf lord was suddenly aware of how close they were standing, and the fact that their hands were still clasped together. Gildor's hand suddenly seemed very hot, and the touch sent fire racing through Glorfindel's nerves. Gildor now reached up his other hand and lightly brushed Glorfindel's jawline with the tips of his fingers. The contact sent tingles down his spine, and Glorfindel drew in a quick breath. He reached up to stop Gildor's hand, but found that the fingers had wandered downward and were now brushing over his throat. This was too much for Glorfindel, and he wrenched his hand out of Gildor's grasp before turning and striding hurriedly in the other direction.  
  
Reclaiming his earlier abandoned seat, the Elf lord stared off broodingly into the night sky. 'Why did I react in such a way to him?' Glorfindel wondered in amazement and irritation. 'I am not some inexperienced elfling, and I have gently rejected others before with no problems.' Looking about him, Glorfindel saw no sign of Gildor and with a pang of guilt, hoped he hadn't driven off the younger Elf. Deciding to forget the incident and enjoy the rest of his last evening in Valinor, Glorfindel turned to conversation with a raven-haired Noldor seated next to him. Glorfindel was one of the few Elves wholeheartedly accepted by most of both the Vanyar and the Noldor. The Noldor tended to distance themselves from the Vanyar because they believed that the Vanyar held themselves higher than the rest of the Elves. The Vanyar found the Noldor to be strange in their love of craft and the night, as well as their independent streak that had caused them to rebel against the Valar centuries earlier. Despite the fact that Glorfindel was Vanyar, he had taken service with a Noldorin lord, and gained the trust and love of that people.  
  
A little later, Glorfindel saw Gildor reappear and felt relief pass through him. The younger Elf seemed to be doing fine, talking and smiling with a group of Noldor kinsmen. Finrod reappeared at Glorfindel's side, and the two spent the rest of the time reminiscing on old memories, along with a group of Noldor that had joined them. A few of the Vanyar gathered around as well, having never experienced any of what the Noldor discussed; eager to listen to the deeds that had been written about in song and were sung still in Valinor. Glorfindel noticed that Gildor had joined the group, and he studiously avoided making eye contact with the son of Finrod.  
  
When the torches began to burn low, many of the Elves began to make their way back to their respective homes. On their way, they stopped and said farewell to Glorfindel, wishing him success and the blessing of the Valar on his journey. When most of the Elves had departed, Finrod asked Glorfindel if he would like to spend the night with them. Glorfindel accepted, not feeling like walking back to his usual dwelling place.  
  
As Glorfindel made his way to the guest room, he heard voices arguing. Walking further down the spacious hallway, he came upon Finrod, engaged in a heated argument with his son.  
  
"Father, I came of age centuries ago," Gildor said, frustration in his voice. "I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions."  
  
"You know not what awaits you in Middle Earth," Finrod retorted. "It is full of sorrow and pain. No sane Elf would wish to return there from Valinor."  
  
"Middle Earth is not the same as when you dwelt there. It is much more peaceful there now. Morgoth is gone."  
  
"Yes, but many of his creatures still remain."  
  
"All I want to do is experience life there," Gildor pleaded. "You lived there for many years, ruling your own kingdom, and you have said yourself what a beautiful land it is. I will live in Valinor for the rest of my extremely long life, and I wish to know what Middle Earth is like. There is still a High King of the Noldor there, and I would take service with him."  
  
"You know not what you speak of," Finrod said fiercely.  
  
"If you could choose again whether to follow F?anor to Middle Earth or stay in Valinor, would you change your decision?" Gildor replied, looking his father straight in the eye.  
  
Finrod hesitated for a moment and then sighing in defeat, admitted, "Given the chance, I would choose as I did before."  
  
Gildor remained silent, having made his point, but Finrod, catching sight of Glorfindel, made one more desperate attempt to convince his son. "Glorfindel! Please tell my son that he is making a mistake in wishing to go to Middle Earth!"  
  
Glorfindel looked at Gildor, and once again was caught by the intensity in those eyes. Swallowing slightly, Glorfindel wondered if wishing to experience Middle Earth was the sole reason Gildor wished to go.  
  
"Perhaps we should discuss this again in the morning when everyone has had a chance to sleep on it," Glorfindel heard himself say.  
  
"A good idea," Finrod nodded in relief.  
  
Bidding each other good night, the three Elves separated to go to their respective rooms. 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I redid Chapter 2, and I think it's better than my first version. Please read it!  
  
Finch: Actually I didn't know that. I haven't gotten around to reading all of the HoME so I was basing it on Morgoth's Ring where it said Elves were reborn. Thanks for telling me.  
  
  
  
Glorfindel woke the next morning with the rising of the sun. After dressing in a tunic and loose pants tucked into his calf length boots, Glorfindel walked down the hall to the dining room and stepped into the medium sized room containing a large bay window that presented a splendid view of the sea. Finrod and Gildor were already seated at the table and Glorfindel could see that they were once more arguing, albeit in a more subdued manner.  
  
Finrod shook his head in exasperation and turned to look at Glorfindel.  
  
"It seems that nothing will sway my headstrong son. He is determined to go."  
  
"Nothing anyone can say will change my mind," Gildor affirmed, his face set.  
  
"Gildor wishes to sail to Numenor and from there on to Middle Earth with you, Glorfindel. Please watch out for him," Finrod requested, fatherly concern in his eyes.  
  
"I shall," Glorfindel promised, looking at Gildor out of the corner of his eye.  
  
Gildor wisely said nothing about not needing a protector. He had achieved his goal and other matters could be worked out later.  
  
Amarie joined them in a few moments, and she was unsurprised to hear of her husband's failed attempts to dissuade their son.  
  
"He is quite old enough to make his own decisions," Amarie told Glorfindel, out of earshot of Finrod. "I tried to convince him to stay at first, but he insisted, and so I will let him go. It is a difficult thing for any mother to do, but my son has inherited the wisdom of his father. He will be fine."  
  
Glorfindel privately tended to agree with Amarie, although he did think that Gildor was unprepared for what awaited him in Middle Earth. 'If he has the resilience and strength of his father, he will adapt quickly,' Glorfindel thought to himself. If not, well Gildor might be returning to Valinor sooner than he thought, to the Halls of Mandos.  
  
The ship sailing to Numenor was scheduled to leave in an hour, so after breakfast, Glorfindel went back up to his room and searched through his bag to make sure he had brought everything he desired. Not wanting to burden himself with too much, Glorfindel had packed a few clothes along with some personal effects. Slinging the bag over one shoulder, Glorfindel went to the front door and found Finrod and his family waiting to escort him to the dock.  
  
When they reached the docks, Glorfindel and Gildor handed their bags to the Elves who were already loading the boat. Both Elves received strong hugs from Finrod and Amari? and Finrod once more sternly reminded his son to be on his guard. Middle Earth was not as safe as Valinor. Gildor nodded in agreement and tried not to roll his eyes, being too old for that, while Glorfindel hid a slight smile.  
  
Then it was time to leave and Glorfindel and Gildor were waving farewell to the rapidly diminishing figures of Finrod and Amarie as well as some other Elves that had come to see them off.  
  
  
  
When the Elves' ship reached the shores of Numenor, Glorfindel and Gildor came up on deck to get their first view of this land of Men. The coastline was quite rocky, the bay they were sailing into being one of the few places suitable for coming ashore. Patches of green could be seen farther inland, indicating verdant forests.  
  
"If the Numenoreans were ever attacked they could easily defend this place," Glorfindel commented, looking over the island with a practiced eye. "The coastline makes it almost impossible for any kind of invasion fleet to dispatch its men."  
  
"Is that all you think about?" Gildor asked in amazement. "What about its beauty?"  
  
"I see that as well," Glorfindel said with a grin, "but I have always been a warrior and the first thing I look at in any new place is how defensible it is. When you lived in Middle Earth in the First Age, things like that were constantly on your mind."  
  
"I suppose they were," Gildor acknowledged. "Though I do not think the Eastern Lands will be as perilous as when you resided there."  
  
"Let us hope so."  
  
  
  
The ship was greeted at the dock by a crowd of people who waved at the Elves on deck.  
  
"These are many of the people that we come here to teach," one of the Elves murmured in Glorfindel's ear.  
  
Glorfindel nodded in understanding. He knew that for a few years now, some of the Elves of Valinor been visiting Numenor to impart their knowledge to Men.  
  
When they reached the dock, Glorfindel and Gildor, with their bags slung over their shoulders, disembarked. Shouldering their way through the crowd, ignoring questions flung at them, they finally broke away from the crush of people.  
  
"Are Men always so loud?" Gildor asked Glorfindel in Quenya.  
  
"No," Glorfindel replied, in the same language. "Just when they become excited."  
  
Gildor seemed to be ignoring the incident that had occurred between them in Valinor, and Glorfindel was perfectly willing to do the same. It made it easier to talk to the younger Elf.  
  
"Where are we going next?" Gildor asked, looking around in curiosity.  
  
"To the king, to arrange our passage to Middle Earth," Glorfindel answered.  
  
  
  
Tar-Elendil was surprised when a man came to fetch him in the library.  
  
"I thought I said I was not to be disturbed," Tar-Elendil sternly told the messenger.  
  
"Apologies, Lord," the messenger said, bowing his head, "but two Elves have requested to see you. They seemed important so I deemed it best to tell you."  
  
"I will receive them in the Great Hall," Tar-Elendil replied, sighing in resignation.  
  
The messenger bowed and departed to relay the message to the two Elves.  
  
  
  
When Glorfindel entered the Hall, his eyes were drawn to the Man sitting in a chair on a raised dais, a few attendants standing on either side.  
  
"I presume that you are King," Glorfindel addressed Tar-Elendil, inclining his head in respect.  
  
Gildor did likewise while Tar-Elendil scrutinized his two guests. Both of them had the tall, slender build of the Elves, as well as golden hair, which slightly surprised him as he was used to the dark-haired Noldor more frequently visiting Numenor. The king gathered from the way they carried themselves that both of them were lords, although the slightly taller of the two radiated a sense of hidden power and majesty that the younger looking Elf lacked. Not that he could judge from their looks how old they were, the king thought amusedly, as Elves never aged.  
  
"It is an honor to have you visit us, lords. My name is Tar-Elendil and I welcome you to Numenor," Tar-Elendil replied. "What may I do for you?"  
  
"We require passage to Middle Earth," Glorfindel stated.  
  
The king's eyebrow rose in surprise. "Middle Earth? Why would you want to go there?"  
  
"Personal business," Glorfindel returned without missing a beat. "My companion wishes to accompany me out of curiosity."  
  
"I suppose I could arrange you passage on one of our trading ships," Tar-Elendil said thoughtfully. "Would that be acceptable?"  
  
"Perfectly. I thank you, lord," Glorfindel replied, inclining his head once more.  
  
"There is a ship leaving tomorrow that I believe will have some room to spare."  
  
"We will be ready."  
  
Glorfindel and Gildor bowed their heads once more and turning around, exited the Hall.  
  
Tar-Elendil sat on his throne for a little while longer, musing about why the Elves would be returning to Middle Earth. 'Would others be following them?' he wondered. And then as he got up to leave, the king realized that he did not even know the identities of these two Elves.  
  
  
  
  
  
The captain of the Spindrift watched the two golden-haired Elves board his ship. Some of his sailors stared at them and whispered among themselves, wondering what the Elves were doing here. One of the Elves caught the captain's eye and made his way over to him.  
  
"Captain," the Elf greeted him. "I believe the king arranged our passage on your ship?"  
  
"That is correct," the captain replied, nodding briskly. "I regret to inform you that due to short notice, there are no extra cabins for you and your companion, however one of my men can give up his berth for this trip."  
  
"That will be unnecessary, Captain," Glorfindel smoothly interrupted, noticing the reluctance on the man's face. "We are perfectly all right sleeping on blankets outside."  
  
The captain thanked them for being accommodating, and asked the Elves if they would join him for dinner. They accepted and then made their way over to one side of the ship so they could have private converse.  
  
"Well, this ship certainly is not as well-built as those of the Teleri, but it will do," Gildor said, his eyes roving over the ship.  
  
His knowledge of ships was scant, so Glorfindel merely nodded in agreement.  
  
"Must they stare at us so?" Gildor asked a moment later in annoyance, motioning to a couple of sailors who were alternating between knotting ropes and stealing glances at the two Elves. "I'm sure they've seen Elves before."  
  
"Yes," Glorfindel said, his eyes following where Gildor's hand pointed, "but they have probably never seen us so closely before, and I doubt they have ever seen any Vanyar Elves. Most likely the Noldor are the only ones they have encountered."  
  
"The only physical differences between the Noldor and the Vanyar are the color of their eyes and hair" Gildor replied impatiently. "Why should our hair color make them stare? If I were to dye it black, would they stop staring?"  
  
Glorfindel smiled in amusement. "I doubt it. We are something new and interesting and that is why they stare. And I don't believe black hair would become you. I suggest leaving it its natural hue."  
  
Gildor laughed. "Don't worry. I wasn't planning on changing it."  
  
'Especially if it pleases you,' Gildor thought to himself, his gaze drawn to Glorfindel's sculpted features.  
  
Ever since he had met Glorfindel in the gardens of Lorien, Gildor had been in love with him. He loved everything about the Elf-lord, his grace, his power, and his inner strength, not to mention his handsome face. Gildor had never approached Glorfindel with his feelings, deeming that Glorfindel would not accept one as young as the son of Finrod. Gildor had kept his distance, until that one night. When he had danced with Glorfindel, he felt intoxicated, the music seeming to course through his whole being, bringing him alive. When the dance was over, with the blood pounding in his veins, Gildor, aching for the Elf lord, had watched as his hand seemed to rise of its own accord and stroke Glorfindel's skin. He remembered the look of surprise and, Gildor thought he detected it, a hint of something else in Glorfindel's eyes. When Glorfindel had quickly left, Gildor went off by himself and took a few calming breaths. Berating himself for his stupidity, Gildor had replayed the events in his mind. That other emotion he had seen made no sense, so he brushed it off as his imagination trying to come up with something, anything, that would give him hope that Glorfindel returned his feelings. He had never felt so mortified in his whole life. Gildor had wanted to apologize to Glorfindel, but since the older Elf seemed to be ignoring the incident, Gildor didn't see the need to bring it back up. It was fine with him if both of them just forgot about it.  
  
Returning back to the present, Gildor realized that Glorfindel had just said something to him.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"I said," Glorfindel reiterated in amusement, "that I believe it's time that we met the captain for dinner."  
  
"We've really been sailing that long?" Gildor asked in surprise, looking up to check the sun.  
  
"We didn't leave the dock until late afternoon," Glorfindel replied. "It hasn't been long."  
  
Shrugging, Gildor followed Glorfindel to the captain's cabin.  
  
When the two Elves had been seated at the table, dinner was brought in. It was simple, but hearty fare, consisting of a seafood soup, bread, and wine. After the dinner the captain invited them to sit on a comfortable couch, while he took a cushioned chair. Sighing comfortably, the captain lit his pipe and took a deep pull on it, exhaling the smoke. Gildor wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell, but made no comment. The silence between the three of them stretched on, and Gildor amusedly wondered if the captain was trying to make them uncomfortable for some reason. If so it wasn't going to work. Elves were very patient and could outwait anyone.  
  
The captain finally broke the silence, starting to look uncomfortable himself. "We should reach Middle Earth in a couple of days, if this wind keeps up. Is there any place in particular you wish to go? I may be able to arrange transport for you."  
  
Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at the captain's fishing. "As I told your king, it is personal business."  
  
As the captain continued along this line of questioning, Gildor could see Glorfindel becoming more and more annoyed. Finally Glorfindel put an end to it with a curt word, and stood up to leave. Taking his cue, Gildor stood up as well and followed the older Elf out.  
  
"He must be the most persistent Man I have ever met," Glorfindel said in exasperation, once the two of them had reached their sleeping area. "His questions were beginning to border on rudeness."  
  
"The king must be very interested in why we are returning to Middle Earth," Gildor remarked. "The captain was probably ordered to find out as much as he could."  
  
Glorfindel nodded in agreement. "If he's worried about more Elves returning to Middle Earth and usurping the lands of Men or some such thing, he needn't be. But I'm not going to tell that impertinent pup of a captain anything."  
  
Gildor smirked. "He probably doesn't even realize how absolutely ancient you are."  
  
"Go to sleep, you young whelp," Glorfindel ordered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  
  
Gildor supressed a yawn. "Whatever you say O Ancient One, Slayer of the Balrog, whose wisdom surpasses all. . ."  
  
He would have continued, but Glorfindel had stifled his litany with a blanket.  
  
"Be quiet and go to sleep or I will toss you overboard," Gildor heard whispered in his ear.  
  
Mumbling his compliance, Gildor turned over on his side and let his eyes glaze over in Elvish sleep, feeling Glorfindel go still next to him as well.  
  
  
  
Glorfindel was awakened the next morning by the sound of voices whispering.  
  
"Their eyes are all glazed over."  
  
"They look dead."  
  
"Don't be an idiot. Haven't you ever heard of how Elves sleep with their eyes open?"  
  
"Yeah, but that doesn't look like sleeping to me. It doesn't even look like they're breathing."  
  
"Go check their pulse."  
  
"Me? I'm not touching them, you go."  
  
At this point, Glorfindel, with a sigh, allowed his eyes to come back into focus, showing him a group of about four sailors, standing a couple feet away, arguing.  
  
"Excuse me," Glorfindel said, sitting up.  
  
The men quickly turned and two of them gaped, while one surreptitiously made the sign against evil. The fourth one glared at his comrades as if to say, See? I told you so.  
  
"Can I help you gentlemen?" Glorfindel asked.  
  
"No, lord," the fourth sailor said, stepping forward. "It's just that my comrades came out here and believed that you were dead. I told them how Elves sleep with their eyes open, but they wouldn't believe me."  
  
"You are quite correct," Glorfindel said, getting to his feet. "Mature Elves almost always sleep with their eyes open."  
  
"We apologize for disturbing you," the fourth sailor said, bowing.  
  
"No need to," Glorfindel said briskly, "I usually wake at first light."  
  
When the men had left, Glorfindel turned to Gildor and nudged him with his foot.  
  
"I know you are awake. Why didn't you get up when you heard the men?"  
  
Gildor's eyes cleared and he slowly sat up, stretching. "I was in the middle of a dream and I wasn't going to rouse myself over them. I figured you would handle it."  
  
Giving a sigh, Glorfindel shook his head in exasperation and went to go find breakfast.  
  
  
  
The next night Gildor awoke, feeling restless. Standing and stretching, he looked up at the reassuring glow of Ithil. Wandering over to the side of the ship, he leaned against the railing and took a deep breath of the cool sea air. A strange scent in the wind caught Gildor's attention, and he stiffened slightly. Peering with keen eyes out to the horizon, he nodded slightly to himself in confirmation. Knowing that this was part of the cause of his restlessness, Gildor decided to refresh himself with a quick swim. Jumping up on the railing, he stood lightly there for a moment and then decided it would be best to dive in at the prow so the ship would not pass him by while he was in the water. As he neared the prow, a shout caused him to turn. The sailor who was on watch had caught sight of him and was hurrying toward him.  
  
"What are you doing?! You're going to fall overboard!"  
  
Gildor turned a puzzled look on the man. "I'm not going to fall anywhere."  
  
The sailor's shout had wakened Glorfindel who immediately leapt to his feet. The captain also came tumbling out of his cabin, rubbing sleep from his eyes.  
  
"What's going on?" the captain demanded.  
  
"The Elf, sir," the sailor responded. "He's walking along the railing, and I was afraid he was going to fall overboard."  
  
Gildor had by this time reached the prow and was deftly balancing there. He seemed to be intently looking down at the sea, and then he kicked his boots off and without any warning, made a graceful swan dive into the water. The captain and sailor rushed over to the edge and searched for the Elf, while Glorfindel strode unconcernedly over to join them, not worried about the younger Elf.  
  
It seemed as though Gildor had disappeared beneath the waves, and the two Men searched for him frantically with their eyes.  
  
"Don't be concerned," Glorfindel told them. "He'll be back up when he's done."  
  
Sure enough, Gildor's head reappeared and he hauled himself up a rope dangling over the side of the ship.  
  
"Have a refreshing swim?" Glorfindel asked sardonically when Gildor was once again on the deck, water pooling around his feet.  
  
Strands of wet hair were plastered on Gildor's face, and he flicked them off before replying. "Quite. I was restless and decided to cool off."  
  
"By the way," he said turning to the captain, "a storm should be upon us tomorrow about late afternoon, and it's going to be a rough one."  
  
"Have someone confirm that," the captain told the sailor, who hurried off to obey.  
  
In the meantime, Glorfindel led Gildor back to their sleeping area and gave him a blanket to towel the water off him. Glorfindel tried not to stare at Gildor too much, as the younger Elf's wet clothes clung to all the right places on his body, accentuating everything.  
  
"Was that really necessary?" Glorfindel asked, referring to Gildor's recent swim. "You are far too impetuous."  
  
"I was restless, and the ship was beginning to feel confining. I felt a great need to get off, if only for a moment," Gildor replied, squeezing water out of his hair.  
  
"I, too, do not like being aboard ship for any length of time, but you are old enough to control your passions," Glorfindel said sternly.  
  
"Perhaps," Gildor replied, giving Glorfindel an unreadable look. "But passion is a good thing too. Sometimes it must be let free or the people holding it inside shall go mad. After all, without our passion, we are not Elves. Our passion is what makes us.  
  
"Passion brought the Noldor to grief," Glorfindel said softly, remembering. "Passion brought only pain."  
  
"Not only pain," Gildor insisted. "I have learned the history from my father. It was not only pain. And all these passions, all these experiences, shaped the Noldor, and I believe that in the end it has enriched them, made them a wiser people. Wiser, I think, than many of the Vanyar who reside in Valinor, for they have not experienced such things."  
  
"Perhaps," Glorfindel said, looking thoughtful. "There is some truth in what you say, but wait until you have spent over a millennium in Middle Earth, and we shall see what you have to say then."  
  
The Elf lord gave a sideways look to his companion. "I see that your Noldor blood burns hot within you, though you have more Vanyar. Take care, though, lest you be burned."  
  
Gildor gave Glorfindel another hooded look, and then gathering up dry clothes, went to change, and as he left Glorfindel heard a faint whisper, "Sometimes it must be let free," leaving the Elf lord to ponder the hidden meanings of their conversation. 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Please read Chapter 2 again because I redid it completely! And please review. It doesn't have to be long or anything, just let me know you're reading it.  
  
CG/MD: Thanks for letting me know. The one time I don't preview the chapter it decides to do something screwy to it. Figures.  
  
The captain was awakened the next morning by a discreet knocking on his door.  
  
"Wait a second," the captain called, pulling on a pair of trousers before going to the door and opening it to reveal his first mate.  
  
"Captain," the man began without preamble, "you know how I told you that we didn't detect any storm? Well now we have, and it's coming this afternoon, just like the Elf said."  
  
The man stopped, and then lowered his voice to a whisper.  
  
"They're strange ones, I can tell you that. They sleep with their eyes open, walk on railings like they're on the ground, and detect storms before our best men and instruments can. It's uncanny. We've all had contact with Elves before, of course, but we've never been so close to them for so long and seen all of this. And as you know, most of our men don't attend the teachings of the Elves from Valinor."  
  
The captain listened silently and then sighed.  
  
"I know. But they're Elves, and Elves are different than Men. Tell the men to just mind their own business. We're going to be docking tonight, so the Elves won't be here for much longer."  
  
  
  
Gildor was dozing that afternoon, when the first raindrop hit him right on the face. Sitting up quickly, he tilted his head back to view the ominous black clouds that hung overhead. The raindrop was soon followed by a torrent of water, and Gildor watched as the sailors scrambled to secure the sails. Deciding to help, he walked toward them, Glorfindel on his heels. The sailors laughed at first, looking askance at their slender frames, but their laughter soon ceased when they saw the two Elves secure a sail that would have taken four Men to hold steady. So the Elves stayed out on deck throughout the whole storm, helping the sailors keep the ship on course. After what seemed like hours, the western sky began to clear and it appeared that the storm would soon pass over. But it was not yet over for the Spindrift, and as Gildor leaned over the railing to grasp a loose rope being lashed about, a large wave crashed over the deck, taking the Elf unawares and carrying him overboard.  
  
Glorfindel saw Gildor carried over the edge, and without thinking, leapt off the side after him. When Glorfindel reached the younger Elf, Gildor seemed to be only half-conscious. Grasping him under the arms, Glorfindel looked for the ship, but it had been driven from them and was out of reach. Breathing a prayer to the Valar, Glorfindel spotted a plank floating nearby and struck out for it, dragging Gildor with him. But the waves seemed to push it farther and farther away, and Glorfindel despaired of them surviving. 'It looks like I'm going to be seeing Mandos again much sooner than I thought,' Glorfindel thought tiredly. But looking down at Gildor, his heart rebelled. 'If not me, at least save him,' Glorfindel beseeched anyone who might be listening. Just as the Elf lord felt his tired body begin to sink beneath the waves, a pair of arms engulfed him. Turning, he was confronted with the watery face of Osse.  
  
A rumbling voice emanated from the water. "It is not your time again, Glorfindel. Nor is it his."  
  
And with that, Glorfindel felt the water rushing by as Osse bore the two Elves towards the shores of Middle Earth, which were rapidly becoming visible. Within a few minutes, Glorfindel found himself stumbling onto an unknown beach, still clutching Gildor to him. Collapsing to his knees, he gently laid Gildor on the sand and checked his vital signs. It seemed that the younger Elf had only been knocked around a bit, along with swallowing some of the sea. In a few moments, Gildor began to regain consciousness, his eyes coming into focus as he coughed up water  
  
"What happened?" he asked groggily.  
  
"You were washed overboard and I went in after you. Osse rescued us and brought us here."  
  
"Why did you jump in after me?" Gildor asked, a slight frown creasing his brow. "You might have been killed, and then we would both be in the Halls of Mandos."  
  
Fortunately, Glorfindel was spared answering when Gildor began to have a coughing fit. The Elf lord knelt beside him and rubbed his back until all the water had been expelled, then he stood up, surveying the place they had landed.  
  
"We should find shelter for the night. We can get our bearings in the morning."  
  
Gildor nodded in agreement and got up slowly to follow after Glorfindel. The storm had ceased by this time, so the two Elves didn't worry about finding a cave. They finally settled down in a depression in the ground under a large alder tree, which helped shield them from the wind. Glorfindel was the first to stretch out on the ground, and after hesitating for a second, he motioned for Gildor to lie down in front of him.  
  
"We can't risk a fire, so we'll have to rely on each other to stay warm," Glorfindel explained at Gildor's questioning look. "We should probably take off our wet tunics as well, since they will give us a chill."  
  
After discarding his sopping tunic off to the side, Gildor settled down with his back pressed up against Glorfindel's naked torso. He gave a sigh of contentment as he felt Glorfindel's arms wrap around him and pushed himself further back against the older Elf's warm, muscled chest. Feeling completely safe, he drifted off into exhausted sleep.  
  
When Glorfindel felt Gildor stretch out against him, he immediately decided that this was the worst idea he ever had. The younger Elf just felt too good in his arms. 'I seriously doubt that Finrod's injunction to protect his son included seducing him.' He suddenly realized that his thumbs were absently tracing circles on Gildor's stomach, and he stopped himself with a stern reprimand, linking his fingers together so that his interlaced hands rested on the younger Elf's abdomen. Reflecting on the situation, Glorfindel admitted that he couldn't deny his attraction and affection for Gildor. Looking back, he couldn't pinpoint the exact time when he found himself drawn to the son of Finrod. It was certainly before the incident on the night of the dance, but it was at that time that Glorfindel first became aware of it.  
  
The Elf lord's honor wouldn't allow him to pursue Gildor, however. 'After all, Finrod did ask me to look out for him. Although Gildor is certainly of an age to take care of himself, still . . .' Glorfindel resolved to limit himself to a strictly platonic relationship for now. Gildor would surely get over his infatuation with the older Elf and move on, so Glorfindel didn't want to start anything with him. A small part of him whispered that he was just making excuses, that he was afraid of passion hurting him again, but Glorfindel determinedly quashed it. With his new resolution firmly in mind, Glorfindel allowed himself to drop off into much needed sleep.  
  
  
  
Gil-galad and Elrond were out riding when they came upon the two Elves. Elrond was the first one to spot them.  
  
"Look over there," he said, pointing a gloved hand toward the sleeping Elves. "There are people."  
  
The two Noldor Elves dismounted and walked over to investigate these strangers.  
  
"Why, they are Elves," Gil-galad said in surprise.  
  
"Yes, but not Noldor," Elrond observed. "They have golden hair. I would say they're Vanyar, but the last Vanyar Elves left with the Valar at the end of the First Age."  
  
"Perhaps, they are of Cirdan's people. Some of them have fair coloring," Gil-galad suggested. "But we will not know until we wake them."  
  
So saying, Gil-galad reached down and grasped one of the Elves on the shoulder.  
  
  
  
Glorfindel was immersed in one of the occasional dreams he had about the fall of Gondolin, so when he felt a hand clutching his shoulder, he reacted immediately. Lashing out with his fist, he caught his surprised assailant in the eye. Following up on his advantage, he knocked the man down and pinned him to the ground. Perusing his opponent, Glorfindel found himself confronted with surprised gray eyes framed by black hair and pointed ears.  
  
"Who are you?" he growled.  
  
Before the dark-haired Elf could answer, a voice commanded, "Let him go!"  
  
Glorfindel looked up to see another raven-haired Elf standing, with an arrow unwaveringly notched to his bow. Gildor, who was by this time awake, stood up quickly, hoping to distract the bow-wielding Elf's attention. The ploy worked, and Elrond's attention was diverted for a moment. But Glorfindel's attention had also been diverted, and Gil-galad had taken the opportunity to strike. The two Elves were once again tussling on the ground, while Elrond covered Gildor with his bow, not wishing to accidentally shoot his king. Glorfindel ended up on top again, but this time, a knife was in his hand, pressed against the king's throat.  
  
"You fight like another man I once knew," Glorfindel remarked, breathing heavily. "Now once again I ask you, who are you?"  
  
"And why should I reveal that to someone who holds a blade to my throat?" the king asked, quite calmly for someone whose life was being threatened.  
  
Glorfindel conceded the point, and removed his knife, allowing Gil-galad to stand. The High King stood and brushed himself off, all the while analyzing the golden-haired Elf. He spoke Quenya with an archaic accent that Gil- galad hadn't heard since the First Age. The king was beginning to believe that these Elves were indeed Vanyar, but he wouldn't rush to conclusions.  
  
"I am Ereinion Gil-galad, son of-"  
  
"Son of Fingon," Glorfindel finished, astonishment written on his face. "The last time I saw you, you were naught but an infant, but I see the resemblance to your father now. And you must now be High King of the Noldor."  
  
With this realization, Glorfindel gave a deep bow. "Apologies, my king, for attacking you, but you surprised me."  
  
"And who are you that you knew my father and are able to best the king twice in combat?" Gil-galad asked, intensely curious.  
  
"Why, my lord," Glorfindel said with a smile. "I am Glorfindel of Gondolin, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower."  
  
Now it was Gil-galad's turn to look astonished.  
  
"It is an honor to meet you, Lord Glorfindel," Gil-galad said, inclining his head. "I can see that reports of your fighting prowess were not overestimated."  
  
Gil-galad turned to Elrond and beckoned him over.  
  
"And now I believe there is someone you would very much like to meet." Gil- galad put his hand on Elrond's shoulder.  
  
"This is Elrond, son of Earendil, great-grandson of Turgon."  
  
Glorfindel stood for a moment, taking in this latest scion of his friend and lord. "You greatly resemble Turgon," he murmured fondly, moving forward and giving Elrond a swift hug.  
  
Then, stepping back, he dropped to one knee and looked solemnly up at Elrond. "Long ago, I swore a binding oath to Turgon to protect him and his descendents for as long as they should remain in Middle Earth. That oath is what has brought me here from Valinor, and I renew it now to you, his great- grandson."  
  
"I do not know if I am worthy of such loyalty," Elrond said, taken aback.  
  
"You are," Glorfindel affirmed, "as a descendent of Turgon and the House of Fingolfin, and I pledge my loyalty and my sword to you."  
  
"I hope to prove myself worthy," Elrond said, clasping Glorfindel's forearm in thanks.  
  
Glorfindel inclined his head, and then turned to Gildor, who had been standing quietly behind him.  
  
"Allow me to introduce my companion who has come with me from Valinor. He is Gildor Inglorion."  
  
"The son of Inglor Finrod Felagund?" Gil-galad said in amazement. "That must mean the Lord Finrod has been re-embodied as well. The surprises this day are never ending." Stepping forward, Gil-galad embraced him. "Welcome, cousin."  
  
Elrond embraced him as well, and echoed Gil-galad's welcome.  
  
"I can see there will be many tales to tell," Gil-galad observed, "but they will be better told back in Lindon. Come! Let us return there."  
  
***************************************************************************  
  
Gildor crept silently behind Glorfindel, far enough away that the older Elf didn't notice him, but close enough that Gildor could keep him in sight. On this exact day for the past ten years now, Glorfindel had left the palace at Lindon early in the morning and not returned until the evening. No one knew where he went or why, and questions only met with evasive answers. Gildor was determined to find out for himself what the significance of this date was that caused the older Elf to wake up in a pensive, melancholy mood and then disappear for the entire day.  
  
Gildor estimated that they had been walking for about an hour and a half, when Glorfindel stopped. Gildor stopped as well and looked around, not sure what the significance of this place was. To him it looked liked any other stretch of shoreline in Lindon. Small, sandy beach leading up to "cliffs" about six feet tall, and on the other side of those, trees of alder and birch. Gildor turned his attention back to Glorfindel, and watched as the Elda stood facing the sea, feet apart, hands clasped behind his back. He saw the grief in the Elf lord's eyes and longed to assuage it any way he could. Then Glorfindel began to sing, and it had not words, but was filled with emotion: grief, pain, suffering beyond imagining. A song of mourning, of beauty unsurpassing and pain deeper than the sea. Gildor wept unashamedly, for there was no other reaction one could have to such a song. As the last notes faded away, Gildor saw silver tears falling from Glorfindel's eyes to splash silently upon the sand. Walking noiselessly up behind him, Gildor placed his hand on the Elda's shoulder.  
  
Glorfindel turned around wordlessly and hugged Gildor tightly to him, burying his face in the golden hair. Gildor returned the hug, murmuring comfortingly in the Elf lord's ear. After a few minutes, Glorfindel straightened up, his face composed, though his eyes belied this.  
  
"Thank you," Glorfindel said, absently stroking Gildor's hair.  
  
"Though," he added, glancing sideways at the younger Elf, "I do wonder why you followed me."  
  
"I wanted to know what was causing you such pain," Gildor said simply. "And help you if I could."  
  
Glorfindel remained silent, so Gildor gently prodded him. "What causes your sorrow this day?"  
  
Glorfindel gave a deep sigh. "This is the day that Gondolin fell, the day the city burned, the day so many perished."  
  
"The day you died," Gildor whispered.  
  
"Yes," Glorfindel acknowledged. "That as well."  
  
He closed his eyes and continued. "It was terrible. The screams of the dying, the smell of smoke, the crumbling of buildings as they fell into dust. Before my eyes Gondolin was destroyed, and there was nothing I could do! Nothing!" He clenched his fist in rage. "And then as we fled we were challenged by a Balrog, and seeing him there, about to destroy the last of my people, I went nearly mad with rage. All my will was bent upon destroying this creature of Morgoth, and I did, but I was destroyed as well." Glorfindel gestured with a slender hand out to the horizon. "And if you were to sail a ship straight out from here, you would pass over Gondolin, now buried forever beneath the sea."  
  
"But now you have returned and all of that is behind you," Gildor said softly.  
  
"Yes, you are correct." Glorfindel sighed softly. "Though I cannot help but mourn Gondolin and my fallen comrades who have not returned."  
  
"I am sorry," Gildor murmured, wanting to do something to console the Elf lord.  
  
Placing a hand on the nape of Glorfindel's neck, he leaned forward and pressed a comforting kiss to the fair cheek. He meant to stop there, but Glorfindel's skin was so smooth, his body so warm and close, and so he moved just a little farther to the left so his lips were pressed softly against the Elf lord's mouth. His hand tightening on Glorfindel's neck, Gildor deepened the kiss, running his tongue over the full lower lip. He felt Glorfindel stiffen, but then, to his surprise, the Elf lord's hands came up to his neck, and Gildor was being kissed back with as much passion as he had given. Gildor felt as if he could lose himself forever in Glorfindel's kisses, the warm pliant mouth beneath his own, the unique taste that was Glorfindel. The kiss ended naturally, and the two Elves stood there for a moment, green eyes gazing into blue. But then Glorfindel looked away and stepped back slightly from Gildor.  
  
"I apologize. I should not have done that."  
  
"Oh no you don't," Gildor growled, stepping closer to Glorfindel and grabbing hold of his arm. "You are not running away from me this time. This time we are going to settle it."  
  
"Alright then," Glorfindel said stiffly. "We should not have kissed, and we will not do it again. End of discussion."  
  
"No, not end of discussion," Gildor replied emphatically. "There is no good reason why we cannot pursue a relationship. It is obvious we both feel something for each other."  
  
"It is just an infatuation," Glorfindel said tiredly. "I do not want to be in relationship based solely on infatuation."  
  
"You malign me," Gildor said softly. "My love for you goes beyond that, for I have loved you in this way for centuries, and that is no mere infatuation."  
  
Glorfindel looked a little taken aback by this, and he asked, "Why did you not say anything before?"  
  
"Most likely because I was afraid of getting the response I am getting now," Gildor retorted.  
  
"But your father . . ." Glorfindel said, clutching at reasons why this could not happen.  
  
"My father is not an issue here," Gildor stated angrily. "I am in love with you, and if you do not return it, tell me so and I shall never speak of it again."  
  
Glorfindel tried to say the words, but they stuck in his throat, for he could not lie in a matter such as this. As the silence stretched on, Glorfindel could see Gildor's face becoming more and more closed, his eyes losing hope. The Vanya felt his heart constrict, and he reached out a hand to Gildor's cheek.  
  
"I love you as well, Gildor," Glorfindel admitted. "I can't bear to see you hurt that way."  
  
This time Glorfindel initiated the kiss. It was long and slow, lips caressing each other, tongues twining together, hands buried in thick, silky hair. When they broke off again, Gildor buried his face in the side of Glorfindel's neck, giving a soft sigh.  
  
"You don't know how long," he whispered, planting a soft kiss on the Elf lord's neck.  
  
Glorfindel stroked the younger Elf's jaw line with his finger. "Did you come to Middle Earth because you wanted to be with me?"  
  
"That was part of the reason," Gildor admitted.  
  
"And if I had rejected you?"  
  
"I said part of the reason. I truly did want to come and see Middle Earth."  
  
The words initiated a sudden lightheaded feeling in Glorfindel, and he felt as if he were floating above his body, watching as the mists of the future were slowly rolled away. Then the foresight came upon him and he spoke. "And see it you shall, wandering far and wide upon the lands, and a wise lord of your people you shall become, as your father before you. But nigh unto 5,000 years shall pass before you set foot upon the lands of your birth."  
  
Gildor stepped back a little and looked thoughtfully up at Glorfindel. "As you say. A long time that is to be here, even by the reckoning of the Elves, but if it is to be than it shall be."  
  
Glorfindel shook his head slightly, coming back to the present.  
  
"You never told me that foresight comes upon you," Gildor continued. "Nor have I heard from anyone else that you possessed this."  
  
"It is not something that I speak of," Glorfindel said shortly. "And the foresight only comes upon me occasionally. I am not a true seer as is Cirdan, who sees farther than any other in Middle Earth."  
  
"I understand," Gildor said gravely.  
  
Glorfindel wrapped his arms around Gildor's waist and drew the younger Elf close to him, resting his head on the broad shoulder.  
  
"Are you going to go back to the palace now or later in the evening like you usually do?" Gildor asked, his voice slightly muffled from his face being pressed into Glorfindel's hair.  
  
Glorfindel raised his head. "Since I'm not expected back until the evening, why don't we stay out here?"  
  
"Unless there is somewhere else you would rather be," he added with a smile.  
  
"This is exactly where I want to be," Gildor said, threading his fingers through Glorfindel's.  
  
The two Elves walked hand in hand down the beach, silently watching the waves, swelling and hissing as they broke upon the sand. As Anar began to sink westward, it washed orange and red across the horizon, like paint spattered on an artist's canvas, and the water turned a molten gold from the reflection. And when Anar had disappeared beneath the sea and twinkling stars began to appear in the eastern sky, they made love upon the warm sand, witnessed by none but the sea. 


End file.
